


Recounting History

by Seafop



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 00:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30013254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seafop/pseuds/Seafop
Summary: Major and minor events from the Dream SMP told from a new perspective, not all events that occur in the story will be the same as in canon.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson





	Recounting History

**Author's Note:**

> A chunk of this dialogue was handpicked from Wilbur and Tommy's dialogue in early streams. Inspired by Tubbo on Ranboo's stream asking for someone to write "Chapters" for the Dream SMP. This is my first time posting a fic so if anyone wants to give feeback or criticism it would be appreciated! (I could also use help trying to figure out what tags to use.)

It was late July when Wilbur Soot gave his dad one last hug and left to find adventure.

The twigs cracked beneath the heavy tires of his old van as he maneuvered his way through a winding maze of tall oak trees. The summer sun made his car feel like a furnace ever since the air conditioner had failed him so he drove with his windows wide open, a strong breeze blowing dark hair into his eyes. 

He’d been driving for hours and even the soft guitar whispering from his radio couldn’t lift his spirits. All dreams of adventure and glory seemed like a faint memory as he glanced outside his window, unsurprised when all that greeted him were indistinguishable trees and bland countryside. 

The pile of books on his dashboard drew his tired gaze away from the forest and he smiled when he saw them. On top was a history book, full of drama and diplomacy, a bookmark wedged halfway into its pages. Beneath it was a guitar handbook his father, Phil, had gotten for his 21st birthday. “I’ve seen the way you look at those guitars, and besides, It’s never too late to pick up a hobby mate.” Phil had said in response to Wil’s embarrassed stammering. His eyes drooped at the thought of home and he wondered not for the first time if it was too late to turn the van around. 

Letting out a long sigh he brought the van to a creaking halt at the bank of a shallow lake. This would be as good a spot as any to stop at for the night, he figured. If he still wanted to turn around tomorrow, he would, but it would be a shame to make the decision without a proper night’s sleep first. 

Yawning, he dragged himself out of the front seat and opened the door to greet the unfamiliar landscape. The first thing he noticed was that the sky had stained pink and orange at some point during his drive as the sun crept closer to the earth.  
He lifted a hand slowly to rub his sleepy eyes. 

Sudden piercing laughs cut through the lazy air and Wilbur raised his head blearily. 2 boys exploded from the undergrowth, cackling loudly. 

“Did you see that?” said the first. 

“That’s what he gets for making a tower bigger than mine after I told him I-” he paused quickly, noticing Wilbur from across the lake.  
“Oi! You’re not one of them are you?” he shouted. 

Wilbur blinked, shaking the sleep from his bones “One of… who?” 

The boy gestured wildly as he made his way over to Wil “You know, the wrong’uns, Dream’s lot. Stupid... ugly.. American.” he finished in a whisper. 

Now that he was closer Wilbur could make out his features, he was very blond and lanky, almost as tall as Wilbur himself, though he walked with an obvious slouch. Wil raised an eyebrow “I’ve got no idea who that is. Besides, do I sound American?” 

The boy lifted a finger, then lowered it, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You might have a point there,” he muttered. 

He stood there for a second and then, as if the conversation had never happened, sprung to life. “Nice to meet you, the name’s Tommy and I kinda run the place. Over there’s Tubbo.” 

Tubbo, who stood a few feet behind Tommy, raised a cautious hand. “ ‘Ello.” He was everything Tommy wasn’t. He was short and wore a wrinkled green dress shirt (Though Wil couldn’t help but notice half the buttons were undone or buttoned in the wrong spot). If he wasn't mistaken he could also see the tips of horns peeking out from his dark shaggy hair, he was a Faun then. 

Tommy glared at Tubbo and spun around to face Wilbur again “God he’s so clingy.” he muttered loudly. 

The corner of Wilbur’s mouth twitched up to his cheek “I’m Wilbur Soot. I wasn’t aware anyone lived around these parts. You got a last name, or is it just Tommy?” 

Tommy shrugged, “I don’t even know what that is. If it’s another way of saying girlfriend then yes, I have multiple in fact.” 

Wilbur, ignoring the latter part of his sentence, stuck out a hand. “Then I guess it’s just Tommy, innit?” 

Tommy grabbed onto it, shaking it a few times more than necessary before yanking his hand back and settling into a practiced swagger. 

“Wilbur! Hello Wilbur, hello Wilbur Soot, my friend, my good friend.” 

Wilbur blinked a few times, then turned and took off his bright orange vest, tugging open the van door and stepping gingerly inside. 

“Hello TommyInnit.” he called out from behind him. 

Tommy laughed in his Tommy way, sharp and shrill. “Hey, how are you man?” 

“I’m good TommyInnit, how are you?” Wilbur asked from inside the old van. 

Tommy frowned “...I’m a bit pissed off actually.” 

“Why are you pissed off Tommy?” 

“Well- Alright, I’ll give you multiple reasons why.” 

Wilbur stepped out from the van, a new black coat slung around his shoulders. He looked over at Tommy, a bored look on his face. “Is this gonna be worth my time, should I bother listening to this?” 

Tommy looked over at him, scandalized, and he cracked a grin. 

“No, c’mon tell me Tommy, tell me. Don’t worry.” 

Tommy gave him a suspicious look before launching into a rant, “Yeah yeah… so anyway well the reason I was so pissed off-'' He paused for a moment, thinking carefully “Now okay so there’s this guy called Ponk.” 

Wilbur snickered beside him. “Ponk?” 

“Well, he’s exactly what he sounds like,” Tommy muttered,

“And I specifically told him “Do not make a tower more powerful than my power tower”, and guess what he goes and does. Guess, take ONE guess.”

“Has he made a powerful tower Tommy?” 

“He’s made an even more powerful tower! It looks like it’s from Lord of the Rings.” 

Wilbur considered this for a moment. “Just to spite you?” 

Tommy nodded and groaned with frustration. “Just to piss me off, and now he’s coming after me with full netherite.” 

Netherite was something rare, something otherworldly and powerful. Wilbur knew of the research Phil had put into the metal, ingots infused with gold sat often on the desk in Phil’s study. It hadn’t interested him at the time but now he wished he’d paid attention when Phil lectured him about its properties. 

Tommy sat on the grass, a frown on his face. “I think I might have to give him the tower.” 

Wilbur scoffed, “Tommy, no-no-no-no. Tommy, don’t be scared of him. I have… a plan for us Tommy.” 

Tommy smirked at him, mouth wide in mock surprise. “You have a plan? Oh Wilbur, that’s all I needed to hear.” 

He laughed and fell back into the grass. Behind him, Wilbur sat on the steps of his van, thinking. “Would you be interested in a little opportunity I’ve got going?” 

Tommy smiled at the absurdity of the idea “You know Wilbur I… Yes, yes I would. Yes, I would be.”

They sat in the grass for a long time that night, talking until the stars lit up the sky and the cold got too much for Tubbo. They watched as he wandered into the trees, heading for the light and warmth of his house.

“What are your thoughts on Tubbo.” Tommy finally said to fill the eerie silence.

“Is that the one who’s always sitting next to you?” Responded Wilbur a moment later from somewhere in the dark forest.

“Yeah, you know, the clingy one.”

“I think… I think he’s clay to be molded TommyInnit.” Wilbur decided.

“...You want to mold Tubbo?” Tommy snickered.

Wilbur didn’t respond. The night dragged on.

“Do you know anything about chemistry?” Wilbur's voice broke the silence.

Tommy startled awake “Huh? Yeah, well- yes.”

“Imagine what would happen if we managed to get a hold of everyone’s brewing ingredients, and then we make an empire out of producing all the medicine and potions around here.”

Tommy remained silent, Wilbur carried on.

“You can’t just make them in like an evil lair you seem to have the idea of. You seem to think that we’ll just be able to produce everything we need in like a secret lair. But Tommy I think, if we spent a little time working on something…” His words tapered off then.

Tommy sat up to glance at Wilbur who was gesturing to the van.

Tommy’s familiar laugh struck the silence

“Wait Wilbur, are we becoming drug dealers?” He gasped out between breaths.

Wilbur’s voice was drenched with sincerity when he spoke again, though Tommy pretended he couldn’t see Wilbur’s smile in the glow of the headlights. “No, we’re not becoming drug dealers of the sort at all Tommy, If anyone asks, what are we?”

Tommy rubbed his neck “Gentlemen?”

Wilbur hummed in agreement “...who live in a caravan.” he finished, gesturing again to the van.

Tommy fell into a fit of giggles, playing with the words on his tongue.

‘Cam-ar-van.”

Wilbur laughed along with him until the silence settled in again.  
“You got a home Tommy?”

Tommy shrugged “I’ve got my enterprise, and I’ve got Tubbo.”

Wilbur stood up, “You want to come inside?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Together they climbed aboard the rickety old camarvan.

After shouldering their way through stacks of books and trinkets, they reached the back. Sunroofs filtered in starlight above them. 

“I’m thinking we turn this into an apothecary of sorts and Tommy, I want you to take part in this. If we can create scarcity of the product, then customers will come flocking to our camarvan.”

“To buy our drugs.” 

Wilbur sighed, but it was a content sigh. ‘If there’s one thing you need to learn Mr. TommyInnit, it’s when to stop talking.”

He shuffled to the closet in the back of the van and pulled out two hefty sleeping bags, tossing one to Tommy.

“To TommyInnit.” He declared, holding his bag above his head.

“To the camarvan!” Tommy shouted in response.

“To the start of a beautiful empire.” They finished in tandem, breaking into snickers.

Later that night, when the stars had gone out and the only sounds in the world were Tommy’s obnoxious snores, Wilbur slid his bookmark back into his history book and smiled, setting it beside him. He lay in his sleeping bag and decided things might still work out after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Have a good day <3 (Or night).


End file.
